


Broken Together

by Gabe-Trash (WardenQueen666)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cannon-Typical Violence, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Requited Love, Season 9 Re-Write, Unresolved Sexual Tension, discovering feelings, mild homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenQueen666/pseuds/Gabe-Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas was broken. Sam was broken.  Everyone Dean cared about is somewhat broken and/or dead. The only thing keeping him from breaking completely is the duty to put everyone back together again.<br/>A duty that weighs heavy on Dean's soul, and Castiel can see it.<br/>When Angels are falling, and when the only one that ever mattered is human, unexpected; impossible situations have Dean battling his emotions while still trying to keep everyone functioning.<br/>But, why can't he see that it's not his duty to begin with?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The road so far - (Introduction)

The air in the Impala was thick; heavy with tension. Sam watched as the older Winchester drummed his fingers against the steering wheel; Metallica playing low on the radio. It wasn't Dean's usual drumming - enthusiastic and to the beat. It was erratic, angry and off pace. His eyes were stern and dead set on the road ahead. Sam daren't speak. He kept playing scenarios over and over in his head. He didn't know how to approach the topic. It had been weeks. However, It was no mystery as to the reason behind his brothers antics. Dean's moods directly corresponded with when the resident angel of the lord stopped returning his calls. He had been on edge ever since.

“You tryin' to burn a hole through my skull Sammy?”

Sam was startled slightly when Dean spoke, but quickly regained his composure. He had to say something eventually.

“You haven't been sleeping well, have you?”

Dark circles hung, grouped under Deans' eyes, ageing him. They were bloodshot and his posture was lacking.

“I got enough.”

“If it's about Cas-”

“Shut up Sam.”

“He's my friend too, Dean. I'm worried. Hell, who wouldn't be? But you can't let it get to you like this.”

The Impala screeched to a halt at the side of the highway. Dean clenched and unclenched his fists around the steering wheel, his grip increasing with each flex. Before he could dent the wood, he threw up his hands with a sound of dejection and turned to face his bother.

“You don't get it Sam!” He growled, “The guy went and let Metatron take his grace! He's human, Sammy. He's human, and every Angel out there is gunning for him. He's alone, feather's plucked, and has no angel juice to protect himself. All he's got is us and we don't know where the hell he is!” Dean closed his eyes and pinched the skin between them, feeling the definite throb of an impending migraine. He took a breath and relaxed his shoulders. “I just... I'm scared, man. He's never been alone like this.”

Sam sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, then looked him dead in the eye. “Dean...He's family and he's stronger than we give him credit for. I believe in him. He'll be fine, you'll see.” His face showed understanding and truth. Sam truly believed, and if that didn't give his brother hope, well nothing would. Dean's lips curled up a fraction and his eyes softened.

“Family...yeah.”

 

 

 

*~*~*~*

 

 

 

“So I was thinking that it's a vengeful spirit? Cut and dry; no issues. Just salt them and burn them.”

“No Sam.”

The hunters had been having a long, drawn out conversation since they sat down to dinner. Sam spent the entire day looking for cases, scanning news articles both online and in the papers.

“Come on Dean - It's been weeks and I'm doing a lot better; you know that.”

“Oh! Oh really?” Dean chuckled dryly under his breath, rolling his eyes. “So the bloody tissues and shaky limbs are just for show, hm?” He shook his head, while standing to take the plates to the sink. “You're not ready, Sam. Stop being impatient.”

“Oh, I'm being impatient? I'm not the one who's phone never leaves their hand.”

“Hey. That's not the same and you know it. So, I'm going to let that one go on account of you being bitchy.”

“Whatever, man. I'm just trying to find a way to blow off steam – get our mind off of things instead of lying about all day doing nothing. ”

Dean got that. He **_really_** got that. But, that didn't mean that he was going to let his brother kill himself as a distraction. He wasn't fit to hunt; that's the reality of things. He barely came back from the brink of death after the trials. Sam was in a coma for three days, most of which was spent in the back seat of the Impala, due to a run in with a bunch of angels at the hospital. Granted, that was Dean's fault. The last thing he had said to Cas was “Get your ass to the bunker.” Now all that went through Dean's mind was _'what if that was the last thing he would ever say to him?'_ He then proceeds to mentally slap himself. Cas is fine. Cas will get here. They will be a family again. Though, the worry stays.

“Hey, do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Dean, being too deep in thought to notice, had completely disregarded the quiet rattling that had since became an obnoxious, frantic, banging on the bunker's entrance. The two brothers looked at each other, their expressions matching, before charging towards the sound of distress. _'He's okay. It's him. He's finally here.'_ Dean chanted to himself, fully expecting to see his friend standing in the doorway, fully suited and tie backwards, with his usual stoic expression radiating from his unnaturally blue eyes. Without thinking, Dean swung open the door, an unmatchable grin plastered on his face, which suddenly melted into a look of anguish, affliction and utter urgency as he was greeted with, not an 'Angel of the Lord' but, Castiel – a very human Castiel – beaten, bloody and bruised, falling into his arms.

“Cas!” He cried, collapsing to his knees; turning his friends face to look at him, ignoring the blood slowly crusting at his fingertips.

The corner of Castiel's mouth twisted up slightly as blue met green – a look that was far to peaceful; to content, for that horrifying moment.

“Hello Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you enjoyed my Introduction!  
> SO! Dean is stressed, Sam is ill and Cas has fallen into Dean's arms (Hardy-har, i'm hilarious.)  
> //Also// Hopefully I have you interested to peruse other chapters! (I'm a sucker for cliff hangers and I have plans for these guys in later chapters that may have you hating me a little bit //So sorry//)
> 
> But hey! Whats a good supernatural fic without tears!


	2. Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has their incidents. However, not many are quite this severe.  
> It's all hands on deck for the Winchesters in this emotional roller coaster of a chapter.  
> I assure you that I wasn't a horrible writer this time, I promise.

Two days.

It had been two days since the, now ex, resident angel of the lord fell into their lives – quite literally in fact. Two days since Dean gave up his bed for their unconscious friend. Two days and Dean never left his side. Two days, and Cas was still asleep. At any other time, Sam would have probably mocked Dean about his over attentiveness when it came to Cas, but deemed it unwise an inappropriate. Dean wasn't just worried, he was damn right paternal. Sam couldn't decide whether to smile or be shocked, so he decided on nonchalant.

This day passed by quite like the rest.

Wake up, daily routine, check on Cas; find Dean with Cas.

Make food, bring Dean food, research; check on Cas.

Research, make dinner, bring Dean dinner, check on Cas.

And Finally - nightly routine, check on Cas, find Dean asleep in a chair next to Cas; go to bed.

Except, the last part didn't _quite_ go as planned.

Sam _**did**_ find Dean asleep. But Sam _**did not**_ go to bed. He was halfway under the covers when he was alerted by petrifying, painful screams that made his blood turn his veins into icy rivers, which caused him to promptly jump from his sheets and run towards the echoing wails of fright.

The sight that greeted Sam was not a pleasant one, as if he had expected it to be otherwise. Dean had Castiel tangled in his arms as the not-so angel wrestled against his grip, blood curdling screams filling the room in a dialect he could not translate – Enochian.

“Cas! Cas, listen to me! It's Okay!” As Dean persisted, so did the shrieking.

“Sam!” The elder Winchester barked, bringing Sam back down to Earth. He felt so useless – like an out of body experience. He was just _there._ “Sam! He's burning up like a fucking inferno! Go get some water and some god damn towels!”

 **That** Sam could do; he immediately left the room.

Dean set himself directly behind Castiel, his arms still holding him firmly in place. He tried his best to ignore his best friends screams. His family. Cas was scared – not just in general, but _of him._ It was a feeling Dean hoped that he would never have to get used to.

“Cas...” The hunter managed to soften his tone; pushing the whine of guilt from his voice. “Cas, it's me. It's _Dean._ ”

At that note, Cas abruptly stopped fighting against him. Instead he paniced, hyperventilating slightly, as if wondering if Dean were, in fact, real.

Dean sensed this and turned Cas around to meet his gaze. He stared deeply into those pools of ethereal blue.

“You're safe Cas. It's me. It's _Dean_.” He relaxed his grip on Castiel's shoulders, moving his thumb in absent minded circles – a comforting notion.

The mist that clouded Castiel's eyes seemed to have cleared, as they widened in realisation.

“D...Dean” He breathed, before doubling over and collapsing against the other man's chest.

It took Dean a second to wrap his brain around that situation. A: a half naked Cas was cuddling into him, and B: Cas had a fever plus his own body heat probably wasn't helping.

He decided to store issue A away for later processing and deal with the more pressing matter.

Dean removed himself from behind his friend, laying him down and only covering him with the thinnest of his blankets.

Dean had dealt with his fair share of fevers over the years, whether they had been Sammy's or his own. However, he had never experienced such pure terror in the same instance.

He let out a raspy, frustrated sigh, and sank into the edge of the mattress, letting his hands aimlessly brush the sticky, dark brown locks from Castiel's forehead, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.

If Sam noticed the surreal moment when he entered the room, he didn't say anything. He simply handed Dean the water and towels so that he could get to work. Dean dampened a towel, rung it out, then placed it on Cas' head methodically – as if he had done it countless times. Which, when Sam thought about it, he probably had. Dean had always been the one to protect and look after everyone, regardless of issue. It's safe to say that 'illness' comes under the term 'issue.'

“I also brought ice water, in case he could drink anything.” Sam mentioned, after an eternity of silence. Dean raised his eyes to his brother, giving him a weak smile. He huffed, “Thanks Sammy.”

Sam nodded at the thanks, he'd take whatever he was given at that point.

“No problem.”

 

*~*~*~*

 

 

Sam kept his problems to himself, though he struggled to hide from Dean when it came to matters of health. Bloody tissues and shaky limbs weren't the half of his troubles. The younger hunter could hardly get out of bed in the morning. Sometimes, he became so exhausted that he could fall with one misplaced step. Thankfully, the one time he _**did**_ decide to pass out, Dean was occupied with Castiel.

Sam was at his bathroom sink, trembling, tending to the slight gash at his temple – applying rubbing alcohol and a plaster. He stared at his reflection and splashed his face with cold water.

If Sam had been alone in the bunker, he probably wouldn't leave his bed. Nevertheless, ever since Castiel turned up, Sam had made it his priority to make sure everyone was well cared for. Dean needed to focus on his best friend's recovery, and, without constant pushing, Kevin would waste away due to malnourishment. Which, meant that Sam couldn't afford to rest.

It had been almost half a day since Castiel's _incident._ Thankfully, Dean had been able to calm him. How? He didn't know. But, his brother came through.

Sam turned around, and leant against the basin. He shuddered out a breath, wiping away the remanence of blood at his lips; only just noticing the sweat trickling down his brow. “Keep it together, Sam.”

 

 

*~*~*~*

 

 

“Any change in Feathers?” Kevin was nursing a bottle of whiskey at the war-table, tablet in hand, when Sam walked in. As he brought the bottle to his lips, Sam shuddered. Kevin was still a kid, yet he had already developed a mild case of alcoholism. He felt partially responsible.

“No – Dean's still sitting with him. He'll let us know.”

Kevin's lips formed a thin line, humming in acknowledgement, before administering more alcohol into his system.

“So how's the translating going?”

“Slow. This tablet isn't the same as the demon tablet. It's harder; more encrypted. It's like Metatron designed it to be almost impossible to decipher. But, I am determined. If anything can put the world back in order, it's the information on this god forsaken piece of rock. Then, I can go back to a normal life. No Angels, no demons, no monsters – just me and my mum.” Kevin looked exhausted –dishevelled. A weeks worth of stubble resided on his chin. He needed a break.

Instead of telling him as such, Sam made the young profit some lunch and a strong cup of coffee, in replacement of the whiskey seemingly fused to his palm.

Sam set aside a plate for himself, then strode towards his brother's room.

“Dean? I brought lunch?”

The picture before him was certainly a sight to behold. Dean was on his knees, at the bedside, encasing Cas' smaller hand with Dean's larger two, his head resting on his own forearm. Castiel was on his side, curled, instinctively, toward him. Sam felt like he was intruding on something private, so he quietly placed the sandwich down, and left the room. Before shutting the door, he surveyed the scene and smiled proudly, at his brother.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for sweet, completely platonic, caring! (ha..haha..ha)  
> I'm sorry that my chapters are so short! I am trying to extend them! Stories that are this full of feels are hard to get down on paper! //or word or whatever//  
> SO!  
> Sam's not letting his brother know the extent of his problems, and is making it his duty to help!  
> Kevin is turning into an alcoholic, over worked ball of stress.  
> Castiel is still out cold after his episode.  
> and Dean?  
> Well...you'll just have to wait and see, right? ;)


	3. The First Day - Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel wakes up.  
> Castiel has a very vivid dream which may be disturbing to some.  
> Check the tags for all the warnings that will be in my chapters.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jp52sbatoSo My writers block went away with this song. It provides many extra "Feels."  
> That's all you're getting out of me ;)

Castiel was alone.

He was alone, although content.

He sat, completely relaxed within that peaceful Tuesday afternoon. Beautiful simplicity filling the immeasurable time passing by.

Heaven was a remarkable place.

It wasn't real, but at the same time it was. Real grass; real trees; real flowers with an endless blue sky stretched before him. The smell of mildew flooded his nostrils – sweet and moist; bloody and burnt.

It was black.

It was all black,

And suddenly bright.

His body was surrounded in a mass of white hot light;

Wings, usually a midnight blue, scorched black – burning.

They went up in flames.

Castiel screamed. He shrieked; he screeched and he wailed in his mother tongue, shaking profusely.

He heard the cries of his brothers and sisters, calling to him, all of them falling.

They blamed him. It was his fault. He was a fool.

He screamed again, trying to block out the sound of his name.

“Cas, listen to me!”

They were persistent. His insides felt like a volcano's pit, bubbling with guilt; filling him with the fires of hell.

There was a presence all around Castiel. It wasn't heavenly, but it was familiar. It frightened him. He tried to escape the plummet to earth – tried to escape the hold the presence had on him.

He had to get away. He had to be free.

“Cas...”

It wasn't one of his brothers. It wasn't a messenger of God.

Castiel tried to hold onto the voice – It spoke with fondness; not hate.

“Cas, it's me.”

Me?

The voice held a tone of reassurance. It was quiet – so quiet over the pain; over the screams - his screams. The fire continued to engulf Castiel. Slowly, ever so slowly, burning the last inches of his vessel's flesh, to the bone.

“It's _Dean._ ”

He was still; Silent. Dean? Castiel only knew one Dean. Why was he here? Dean was no Angel. Dean couldn't fall. It couldn't be Dean. It couldn't.

Castiel's breathing was reckless, unchecked and agonizing. He was in a flurry of panic.

Green.

“You're safe Cas.”

Earthly green.

“It's me.”

Familiar green.

“It's Dean.”

The bright light faded; the black abolished.

A caring expression came into view: with hair, lips, freckles and _eyes._

Eyes that Castiel knew.

“D ... _Dean.”_

 

Cas was alone again – alone on that blissful Tuesday afternoon.

But he didn't feel alone.

 

 

*~*~*~*

 

 

The sun hung low in the sky, although it was not quite dusk. Dean determined that it was around the mid-day mark, as his eyes adjusted to the light. He thought he was still half asleep when he heard Castiel stir beside him. Dean quickly woke up and faced his friend.

Cas' eyes were as they always were, blue and full of wonder, but with a glint of confusion and regret – so much regret.

“Dean?” His voice was coarse; probably still raw from the earlier incident. He tried to sit up, immediately wincing at the pain shooting down his spine.

“Hey. Woah there, Buddy. Take it easy,” Dean spoke with concern and placed a gentle hand on Cas' shoulder, pushing him back down onto the bed. “You've been out for a long time...”

“How long?” Castiel replied, choosing to prop himself up slightly, against the headboard.

“Almost three full days, man. I...” Dean paused, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It's good to see you, Cas.”

Castiel watched the corners of Deans mouth rise into a small smile. He savoured the moment and returned the gesture, heartily. “It's good to see you, as-well, Dean.”

Dean coughed awkwardly, before his eyes traveled down Cas' chest, to the bandages wrapped repeatedly around it.

“How's the back?”

“Painful... How badly am I hurt?”

“Right now? Well, you were damn beat up before, but those wounds healed quickly. It's just your back which is, currently, in bad shape. You've got some pretty nasty burns back there.”

Burns.

Castiel's eyes widened while memories flooded his head. He scrunched them closed, shoving his face into his palm.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Words tumbled out of Dean's mouth in a flurry. He gave Cas' hand a reassuring squeeze. He should have let go after Cas woke up, but he felt a need for contact at that moment. He needed to know that Cas was okay; that he was really awake. He didn't focus on why – he stored that away for later processing, along with issue A from before.

“Ah, yeah... I'm... I'm okay, Dean. It's just a... headache, is all.” Castiel was thankful for his friends presence; for every gesture of kindness and concern. As Dean gripped his hand, he felt a sudden surge of happiness in his veins. He hated lying to Dean, but he didn't want to be a burden.

“You sure? You look a little warm there.”

Cas' cheeks were flushed. He placed his hand on his cheek, feeling the heat radiating through the skin. He was blushing. _'Curious,_ ' he thought.

Out of no where, a low, rumbling sound vibrated through the room. Dean laughed, loudly; creases formed at the corner of his eyes, lighting up his whole face. It made Cas smile.

“I think you're hungry, Dude.” He said, eyes fixating on the sandwich Sam had left for him, earlier. He made a mental note to thank his brother later.

Dean picked up the plate, handing it to his friend and raising his body to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Castiel tilted his head, squinting his eyes in confusion.

“Isn't this meant for you?” The ex-Angel asked, gesturing toward the food, now in his lap.

Dean gave him a small smile, and shook his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, but you need it more than I do. Three days is a long time to go without food, after all. Hope you like bacon – Sam makes an awesome B.L.T.”

Castiel eyed the sandwich wearily, an emptiness eating away at a void in his stomach.

“I admit, I am not used to hunger. I... had never eaten anything until recently, unless you count the time with Famine, of course. I...” He looked off to the side; sadness filled his eyes – a longing. “I have never needed to...”

Dean hated that look. He hated seeing that hurt expression on Cas' face. It didn't suit him. Dean needed to change it.

“Hey!” He chimed, beaming at his best friend, placing his free hand on the man's shoulder. “Now you get to experience one of the best things about being human. Food is awesome, Cas. Trust me, you'll love it.”

Cas couldn't help smiling at the attempt. Dean let go of his hand, so that Cas could pick up the sustenance before him.

Hands now feeling empty, the hungry man immediately brought the sandwich to his lips, earning a thumbs-up from the friend, beside him. He took a bite, and his face lip up. A pleased noise escaped his lips as he closed his eyes, savouring the taste. It was a lot better than the apple pie and scraps he had consumed before.

Dean chuckled, “Good, right?”

“Mmmhm” Cas hummed in agreement, swallowing the remains of his second bite. “Food is, indeed, very _'awesome.'_ ”

Cas finished his first meal in quick succession, placing the plate back on the adjacent night stand.

“Thank you, Dean. I do believe I required that.”

Dean shook his head, grinning in satisfaction.

“Hey, uh.. Cas?” He stammered, unsure as to whether he should ask his question.

Cas looked up at him with questioning eyes. “Yes, Dean?”

Dean let out a long breath before answering. “What exactly happened to you, Cas? You were gone for weeks with no word of where you were, then you come back looking like you've gone two rounds with Mike Tyson. I was worried, man.”

And, he was. Dean really was. Castiel could see it in his eyes. It was there along with pain, resentment and exhaustion.

Cas' heart began to beat irregularly.

“After I...” Castiel grimaced at the memory, “...fell, things were difficult.” He began to feel nauseous, as he explained. “My brothers and sisters were tracking me; even the one that I tied to help actually wanted to possess me. I...” He shivered, biting his lip, “...I was forced to strike her down,” Cas semi-whispered, unbearable hurt welling up in his eyes.

“Cas...”

“This tattoo?” he gestured to his abdomen, “It's an enochian inscription, to keep me hidden from an Angel's view. But, even then, some still found me.” Cas wrapped his arms around his middle, shielding himself. “I was, again, forced to kill.” He began to shake, trembling with each passing memory. “They...They all blame me.” His breaths were short; his chest ever so tight, “It's...It's all my fault.” Cas' mouth was dry; he felt like he was going to be sick. “Some even died in the fall! Others died fighting in the confusion!” He was shaking so violently, that he fell off the bed.

“Cas!”

“It's... It's all my fault... I was a fool... I...deserve I.. Dean! Dean, I... I can't breath!”

Dean gripped Castiel's shoulders, shaking him, slightly. “Hey. Hey! Hey, Cas! Look at me, God damn it!” Cas' eyes shot up to meet Dean's, as he choked on his own breath, grabbing fist-fulls of the man's shirt. “Just keep looking into my eyes and breath with me, Cas. Breath with me – in and out, you hear me? In...out...”

A few minutes passed by, both of them sitting on the floor, with Dean helping his friend regulate his breathing and Cas holding on for dear life, all white knuckles and popping veins. Castiel's breath eventually evened out and they were sat, staring into each other's eyes.

“What...just happened to me, Dean. I felt like I was dying.” Cas looked down at the floor, “I thought I was dying...” He croaked, tears brimming.

Dean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair – a nervous habit. “That was a panic attack, Cas. I'm sorry you had to deal with that.”

Castiel bowed his head, slumping his shoulders. He looked up at Dean through his lashes, eyes full of disgrace.

“Cas, it's a normal reaction. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I used to be to powerful, Dean.” Cas muttered, sorrowfully. “Now, i'm nothing... but a burden. I'm useless.”

Dean tightened his grip on Cas' shoulders, gritting his teeth.

“Don't you _**ever**_ say that Cas. _**Ever**_. You will _**never**_ be useless _**or**_ a burden. We're family, Cas. You better get that through that thick skull of yours, because every time you put yourself down, I _**will**_ pick you back up again, and that's a promise, Cas. I swear it.”

Castiel was astonished; stunned. He was still shaking as Dean's words resonated around the caverns in his head, so preoccupied with them that he didn't realise he had been pulled in for a hug, until his head was firmly pressed against a solid chest. Cas raised his tremulous arms to wrap around Dean's back – loosely, but there, gripping the cotton.

“I swear it, Cas.”

The words vibrated against his skin; he could feel the truth in them. He didn't need to see it.

In response, Cas nodded into the fabric, breathing in the sent of his comforter. It was calming.

“Good.” Dean pulled away, re-placing one hand on Castiel's shoulder, wiping away stray tears with the other, bearing a charming grin. “Now, let's go get you something to drink, buddy. You could use something hot after the wake-up-call you've had.” He stood, offering a hand to his broken friend, grin never faltering. “Can you walk?”

The newly human's knees felt weak. He felt physically drained after the whole endeavor. Regardless, he grasped the hand in front of him and was hoisted to his feet, before tripping over them.

Dean put his arm around Castiel, steadying him. “You okay there, pall?” He sounded worried, looking Cas up and down, checking for injury.

“I'm fine, Dean. I am just, partially, exhausted and may or may not need a shoulder.”

“You sure? I could just bring the drink to you, you know? If you need to rest?”

“I have rested enough, Dean. As you said, I have been asleep for _'almost three full days.'_   I would like to leave this room, please.”

Dean could almost hear the air quotes, and chuckled a little to himself. “Whatever you say, man. Here, c'mon.” He brought Castiel's arm up over his shoulder, wrapping his own arm around his waist, for support; Ignoring the feel of bare skin and bandage beneath his fingertips.

Dean brought Cas through to the dining room, making sure he was seated before moving over to the coffee machine.

Castiel eyed the man with curiosity, watching the natural flow of his body as he worked the mechanics of the device, easily making a perfect cup without a second glance. Dean had always been a piratical man. His body remembers what his mind chooses not to, and Cas finds him _fascinating_.

“Here you go – one Ol' cup of Joe for one new healing man” It broke Castiel out of his daze when Dean sat down facing him, coffee placed in reach.

Castiel drank, then held the cup in his hands for a moment, staring at it; contemplating.

“Thank you, Dean...” he expressed, gingerly, meaning more than just the appreciation for liquids.

Evidently, Dean understood.

“Yeah, Cas. It's okay. Any-time.” Dean smiled genuinely, as he replied. His expression read like that thank you meant more than _anything_ ever said to him.

Castiel blushed once more.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's dream in the beginning is a //sort of// flash back to the last chapter, which i will quote here.
> 
> “Cas! Cas, listen to me! It's Okay!” As Dean persisted, so did the shrieking.  
> “Sam!” The elder Winchester barked, bringing Sam back down to Earth. He felt so useless – like an out of body experience. He was just there. “Sam! He's burning up like a fucking inferno! Go get some water and some god damn towels!”  
> That Sam could do, immediately leaving the room.  
> Dean set himself directly behind Castiel, his arms still holding him firmly in place. He tried his best to ignore his best friends screams. His family. Cas was scared – not just in general but of him. It was a feeling he hoped that he would never have to get used to.  
> “Cas...” The hunter managed to soften his tone; pushing the whine of guilt from his voice. “Cas, it's me. It's Dean.”  
> At that note, Cas abruptly stops fighting against him. Instead he panics, hyperventilating slightly, as if wondering if Dean were, in fact, real.  
> Dean sensed this and turned Cas around to meet his gaze. He stared deeply into those pools of ethereal blue.  
> “You're safe Cas. It's me. It's Dean.” He relaxed his grip on Castiel's shoulders, moving his thumb in absent minded circles – a comforting notion.  
> The mist that clouded Castiel's eyes seemed to have cleared, as they widened in realisation.  
> “D...Dean” He breathed, before doubling over and collapsing against the other man's chest.
> 
> SO!  
> Dean is very good at comforting!  
> Castiel is experiencing some of the worst parts of being human, first hand. It's exhausting, but at least he has someone to help him through it.  
> Coffee solves all the worlds problems.
> 
> But in all honesty, writing the panic attack scene was hard for me, because it was based on personal experience. I know what it's like to go through that, so let me tell you that Cas is doing amazingly well in the front he is putting up.  
> But can he hold it?
> 
> Next chapter, we get to see Sam and Kevin again! Whoop!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
